Work Text:
Even in its sitting position the mech suit towered over Robert. They stared at each other, a dark visor—void of the light it usually carried—against glossy brown eyes.
This wasn’t the usual place for the suit to be. His father had a separate garage dedicated to the suit, the shed was only so he could access it quickly in case of emergencies. Emergencies that have yet to happen, thankfully, as no villain is dumb enough to make an attack on the Brave Brigade even when they’re off work.
Even if one did make the attempt it’s unlikely they’d make it past the defense systems his father equipped to the house.
Robert could hear the sounds of all the heroes mingling outside. Laughing, talking, partying. He knew his father was out there too, manning the grill, something he insisted on doing at every cookout. Their previous conversation rang through Robert’s ears.
“When the food’s done, will you play with me?” Robert had asked him, looking up at him with large, hopeful eyes.
Robbie looked away from him as they made their way to the backyard, “There’ll be a lot of people there, kid, we’ll have to see.”
“But you promised!” Robert pouted up at him.
“I’ll play with you next time, okay?” Robbie had answered him, a light twitch in his brow.
It’s what his father always said when he asked to play with him. Next time. But there never was a next time.
“Can’t someone else do the grilling for once?” Robert asked, pulling at his dad’s shirt.
Robbie laughed, “These shits? Just because Laser Focus can shoot heat rays from his eyes doesn’t mean he knows how to cook a burger.”
“But dad…” Robert pouted again.
“Robert,” was all his dad said, but the firm tone and the large hand on his shoulder was enough to get him to straighten up. “I have responsibilities here. Just cause we're off the clock doesn't mean I can stop paying attention to the Brigade."
"You never pay attention to anything else..." Robert muttered under his breath, averting his gaze and staring at his feet.
"What was that?" His dad leaned in.
Robert gave him no reply, continuing to stare at the ground and hold back the tears that threatened to brim in his eyes. He knew how his father felt about him crying, especially when he could be seen by others.
Robbie sighed and took his hand off Robert's shoulder and instead wiped it down his face as he tried to contain his frustration. "Look, Chase will be here too, okay? You can play with him later, but in the meantime go find something else to do. Is that alright?"
Any hope Robert had at getting to spend time with his father died. He nodded solemnly, biting his lower lip in the process as he fought to quell his emotions.
"Good. Now don't bother anyone, alright?"
Robert nodded again, unable to meet his father's gaze. He went unnoticed by the other Brave Brigade heroes who began to pour in and sulked over to the shed.
Now in the privacy of the shed he allowed his tears to run freely; though he did not allow himself to make any noise as he cried. His gasping breaths shook his small frame and he sniffled occasionally to stop the snot that wanted to trickle down his face.
He clenched his father's hammer in his fist. Part of him knew this was a bad idea, that this would go wrong and he'd be in trouble. But the other part of him, the part of him he frequently neglected and was often told to hide, didn't care about the consequences, or the dangers, or anything else.
Everyone assumed Robert's favorite hero was Mecha Man, but he wasn't. Robert hated Mecha Man; he was the reason his father was never home, and the few times his dad was around it was because being Mecha Man hurt him.
Robert's favorite hero was Track Star, even though nobody stopped to consider him. Being Track Star never stopped Chase from spending time with him, or buying him snacks whenever he was sad, or teaching him how to play games because no one else was there to.
As great as Chase was, he wasn't Robert's dad. He couldn't fill the emptiness Robert felt whenever his dad dismissed him, or called to say he wouldn't be home for a few days, or when he fell back on his promises.
Next time, okay? The words echoed in Robert's mind. He was too distracted to realize what he was doing. He didn't recognize the feeling of his arm swinging back and then forwards until a loud clang reverberated through the shed.
Robert dropped the hammer with a gasp and was quick to wipe his tears as he turned to the shed door, his pulse as quick as a frightened rabbit's. He waited, and waited, and waited, trying to compose himself and come up with an excuse before his father stormed in but... he never did.
There was no shift in the commotion outside or fast approaching footsteps. There wasn't even a call for his name to see if he was alright.
Hesitantly, Robert walked over to the shed window; having to climb the bench to see it because he was too short. He stood on the tips of his toes and peeked out, only to find nothing had changed.
Nobody was lined up outside the door prepared to check up on him. In fact, nobody was even looking at the shed, not even his father and Chase. They were both focused in speaking with Elliot.
Nobody in the Brave Brigade liked Elliot, his father especially. It wasn't that they hated him, they found him awkward and tiring to be around. The only reason the Brigade kept him around was because his technology--the augments, specifically--showed potential.
Robert knew this because his father said it to Chase once late at night as they shared drinks. The two often talked late at night, either while drinking or outside smoking. Unbeknownst to them, Robert would be there listening. He couldn't join in because they'd only talk past his bedtime, but he liked to close his eyes and imagine he was part of it too. That maybe his dad was ruffling his hair as he spoke, or would stop to ask Robert his opinion, even if the discussion was too adult or complex for him to understand.
A sick, burning feeling curled in Robert's gut as the tears flowed again. What could Elliot, the most hated person in the Brave Brigade--who wasn't actually in the Brave Brigade--be saying that it was more important than what Robert had done?
Brave Brigade stuff, Robert realized as he remembered his father's earlier words.
He shuffled off the bench and picked up the hammer, running his hand over its smooth handle. He looked at the mech suit, observing the damage he caused for the first time.
A large dent laid on the suit's thigh, and a concoction of satisfaction and guilt swirled within him. The pent up anger he felt towards Mecha Man had subsided. Not all of it, but enough to release a tension he didn't know was in his chest until it was gone, and that's exactly what made him feel so guilty.
Mecha Man was a hero. He went out and risked his life every day and night, stopping villains and saving lives with each mission he went on. Who was Robert to demand that he stop just because he wanted to spend time with his father? He was selfish to place himself above the lives of others just because he wasn't satisfied with the attention he already got. It was an insult to his father, Chase, and the people of California.
Whenever there was a report on the news about people getting hurt or dying while Mecha Man was at home, tending to his son, Robert knew he was to blame.
He hadn't realized it at first but with all the emotions bubbling to the surface and not knowing how else to release them, Robert had begun bludgeoning the suit. Leaving dent after dent as each hit released the anger from him until there was nothing left but a sore arm, wet cheeks, and a trail of snot that reached his lips.
A whrr sounded and the once dark visor glowed it's signature blue.
"Threat identified."
It got to its feet like it were a person, fists clenched at its sides.
"Defensive protocol initiated."
Robert stood there, frozen, trembling in fear and leftover anguish as the suit engaged. From its back emerged a giant gatling gun--one Robert had seen his father use on TV--and aimed downwards at him.
"Firing."
A red light was trained on his skull, right between his eyes.
A thought hit him. A dark and scary thought. Maybe if he didn't move, if he stayed where he was, his father...
He was pulled away before the thought had time to finish itself.
There was the sound of the door breaking down, the pop of his arm dislocating, the zzat of the gun firing, and the sound of Chase crashing into the bench with Robert in his lap.
Robert let out a loud cry once they settled, a hand flying up to grasp his shoulder. However, the worst of his pain was in his ear. There was a wetness at where the shell should be, and a sizzling from where the gun had shot part of it off.
Chase's eyes were trained on him, "You okay, Robert? Is it your arm? Are you..."
He stopped suddenly. Robert realized why once a shadow loomed over them and he was grabbed by his middle and pulled back into Chase protectively, who stared at the mech suit with nothing but rage in his eyes.
It was posed at them ready to attack, and Robert didn't want to look. He grabbed onto Chase, tightening his fists in his shirt and screwed his eyes shut, his lip trembling as he rested his head on Chase's chest, trying to prepare himself for what would happen next. Would it take him or Chase first? Knowing the suit's firepower, it would take them both out at the same time.
Chase gripped him tighter, an arm coming up to wrap around his shoulders and keep the boy in his embrace.
All he wanted was his father's attention, and now he was going to get his older brother killed because of it.
"Deactivate protocol!" He heard his father shout with a sense of urgency Robert had never heard before.
Being Mecha Man as long as he did allowed Robbie to develop an almost sixth sense for trouble, a gut feeling that alerted him when something was going to go wrong. It was one that flared up when Robert had talked back to him.
He knew the boy was disappointed--more than disappointed if the quiver in his lip was anything to go by--from Robbie breaking his promise. It's not that Robbie wanted to break his promise, but Robert was too young to understand the responsibility it took to be Mecha Man.
He always had a job to do, even when he didn't. When he didn't have to give out orders to the other Brigade members or take down rampaging villains, he had to maintain morale and check up on the team. In Robbie's world, he was always Mecha Man, a lesson Robert was sure to understand one day, but not now.
He watched as the boy sulked off, keeping true to his word and not bothering anyone before making his way over to the shed. Good. It was good that the boy was giving himself something productive to focus on instead of dwelling on his emotions, who knows when he'd get the chance when he takes on the mantle?
Robbie spent a few minutes talking to everyone, making sure to connect with the heroes he was closer to and catch up with the ones he wasn't before manning the grill. Robert's melancholy had been pushed to the far back of his mind by the time Chase came over and plopped himself down in one of the lounge seats, beer in hand.
The two spoke for awhile before the topic landed on Elliot. It was no secret that he wasn't well liked by anyone in the Brave Brigade, with Robbie being the harshest towards him.
There was something off about the man, worse than his nerd-typical social ineptitude. Something obsessive, reckless... dark, almost. It was miniscule now, not something that posed as a serious threat unless it went unchecked. But still something which made Robbie weary. Elliot was not Brave Brigade material, but Robbie would be lying if he said the man didn't have some use. Namely, the astral pulse.
A loud clang sounded from the shed, making Chase snap his head in the direction of it.
Robbie waved it off with a hand gesture, "Kid's in there tinkering. You want cheese on this?"
"Yeah. Anyway..." Chase replied.
That gut feeling spiked, but after a few seconds of no other noise Robbie elected to ignore it. There were bigger issues ahead. Ones with pulsing red augments in their head whose skin swelled around it.
Most of the Brigade seemed keen on utilizing the augments Elliot created. Robbie not so much. Of course as Mecha Man, Robbie would have no issue with exploring the uses of technology. What he would have issue with, however, is attaching and inserting them into people's bodies with no proper tests on the long term health effects.
His already disapproving opinion lowered after seeing it short circuit and shoot sparks after being hit with a little beer. At the very least, it got Elliot out of their hair.
Robbie's gut feeling flared once again, and he had no time to dwell on it before hearing the automated voice of the mech suit.
"Threat identified."
Chase choked on his beer and the two snapped their heads towards the shed once more.
"Defense protocol initiated."
Robbie felt himself growing irritated. "Robert..." he said exasperatedly, but with no intent of wasting time on being disappointed.
He turned towards Chase and pointed to the shed, dropping his beer in the process as he brought out his Mecha Man voice, "Go."
The teen was gone in a flash. A few seconds later, just as Robbie's beer shattered, the shed door was broken in as Chase burst through with Robbie running fast as he could towards the commotion.
Despite his tough love approach Robbie loved his son. Nothing would make him want to see the boy hurt.
By the time he was close enough to look into the shed he could see the suit aimed and ready to fire at the two boys.
"Deactivate protocol!" He shouted, and relief coursed through him as it holstered the gatling gun and stood straight.
"Voice match. Protocol deactivated."
His relief was temporary. It wouldn't settle in until he was sure Robert was okay. Once inside he could see Chase on the ground, cradling the boy in his arms. Robert was always a small kid; short and very skinny. And like this? Hurt and afraid? He never looked smaller.
Robbie knelt down close to them, placing a gentle hand on his son's shoulder, rubbing his thumb in a soothing gesture without realizing.
"Are you alright? Are you hurt?" He asked to both of them.
Chase panted, coming down from the adrenaline rush but he managed to get out, "His arm... I think I dislocated it when I grabbed him."
Robbie stared at the hole in his son's ear, placing a tentative finger over the edge which caused Robert to hiss in pain and lean away, tears continuing a steady flow down his cheeks.
In that moment, Robbie wanted nothing more than to scoop Robert up. To cradle him against his chest and soothe his pain. But he knew--as much as it pained him he knew he couldn't.
Robbie remembers what it had been like when Mecha Man Prime died. He had only been nineteen then, bright-eyed and eager to go on his first mission and take on the mantle once his father became too old and tired to do so. He didn't expect the title would be passed onto him so early and in such a gruesome end.
Robbie never felt more unprepared for something in his life. Every mission was a reminder of how fragile he, a powerless human, was. Each night was spent recovering from bruises on top of bruises, feeling pain from injuries he'd never gotten before--some he didn't even know existed.
There was mental pain with it, too, coupled with a grief that weighed on his chest like an anchor. There were countless nights where Robbie considered retiring, giving up, possibly even ending it to relieve the pressure of Mecha Man from his shoulders.
It was a difficult job, one that would be Robert's some day. And if Robbie learned anything from his father it would happen sooner rather than later.
It's not that he wanted to be harsh on Robert, he didn't like seeing his son suffer. But if he didn't tough through it then he would end up just like Robbie did when he first became Mecha Man, and who's to say Robert will be able to push on like he did? That he won't end things like Robbie once considered?
Robbie's expression hardened as he rose to his feet. There was only one way to make sure Robert could be ready, much as he hated doing it.
"Get up."
And the way Robert looked at him--fist clenched tight in Chase's shirt and trembling in the teen's grip, tears flowing down his face uncaring of what his father had to say--was a look Robbie would never forget no matter how much alcohol he drowned himself in.
Robert stared up at his father, too focused on the searing pain in his ear and shoulder to compose himself. Though he did try to shrink in Chase's protective embrace.
"Get up," Robbie repeated.
Chase held him tighter while being mindful of his dislocated arm that was pressed against him and tried not to squeeze him too hard.
"Robbie..." Chase started.
"He needs to be strong, Chase." Robbie interrupted, his gaze shifting up to the teen momentarily before going back to his son. "He needs to get up."
Robert made no attempt to move. He wanted to stay curled up in Chase's arms forever. But the way his father looked at him, the increasing rigidity and anger in his posture... he knew it wasn't an option.
"Chase, let go of him."
Chase tensed, but when Robert looked up at him and met his gaze--wet teary eyes meeting uneasy ones--he reluctantly let go. Robert crawled from his embrace and used his good arm to push himself to his feet. His first few attempts were wobbly, and when he got a foot on the ground but fell back on his feet he could feel Chase shoot up to grab him again but was stopped by a stern glare from Robbie.
Eventually, Robert made it to his feet. Just outside the broken door he could see a few of the Brave Brigade heroes curiously peeking in.
Robert fixed his gaze back to the man above him. In that moment, he wasn't looking at his father, but at Mecha Man.
Get up.
Robert could make out the bright blue light of his suit's screens and interior behind his heavy eyelids. There were some faint beeping sounds too, but it was otherwise quiet.
His body felt like lead, and he was curled up sideways in the suit in a fetal position. Despite the circumstances, things were almost peaceful. He was content to let himself drift off to wherever this bout of unconsciousness would take him.
Get up.
His eyes snapped open. No, he couldn't. His whole body ached, but the phantom pain of his ear notch was the worst. Robert mustered as much strength as he could and climbed out of the suit, legs wobbling as he tried to stand. Part of him wanted to let himself collapse again.
Get up.
Robert looked down at the suit, back facing the city. It was peaceful in the barren outskirts in the crater where he stood. He looked down at the suit, observing all the damage. His head hurt when he tried thinking about how much money it would cost to fix it and if he even had that money in the first place.
His father's words continued to play in his head like a mantra, as he gripped his injured shoulder and stared as the distant sound of sirens grew closer and closer.